My Song
by PrussianMongrel
Summary: Life was a petty thing, Hungary thought as she walked over to the man who wouldn’t see her and rested a hand on his shaking back that he wouldn’t feel. An unfair and cruel thing that seeks to destroy happiness.


Hungary walked through the halls of Austria's house. She could hear him playing the piano and the noise got louder as she neared his music room. His place of thought. His place of reminiscence and soothing peace.

He was playing a complex composition of Mozart. He played it often and Hungary knew it well. One of her favorites in fact.

She had no indication as to how long she had been standing there listening to the joyful tune that caused her to reminisce of when she used to dress a younger Italy in frilly dresses and watch the Holy Roman Empire be full of awkwardness towards the boy.

But Holy Roman Empire had long since left the hallowing walls. Italy had grown and now had a family with Germany. And Austria's house was a sad place. A place of memories both good and bad. A place where there was once love but now only an emptiness to chill to the bone.

Suddenly, as if on cue to her sad thoughts, the music changed smoothly albeit abruptly. Austria's fingers now stroked a sadder, slower tune into the ivory keys of the piano. The music was full of regret and sorrow. A painful peace.

This composition was not written by composers she had heard of. And after living with Austria for so long, she had thought that she knew all of the great composers.

But this tune was alien to her, yet at the same time, the more she listened to the beautifully sad song, it molded with her until she became one with it. It was her.

Peering around the doorway, Hungary saw Austria. He wasn't as composed as he normally was, with a few silver tears making their way down his face. The song was true to him it seemed. His own piece of pure undulated music to play for the empty halls of his house.

But as the music reached the emotional climax, he cut it off and closed the piano. He sat there still for a time with his hands resting on the lid of the piano keys. Then, slowly, he looked at the door, at Hungary, before sighing and turning away.

He stood up and walked to the fireplace where there was a photo displayed on the mantle piece.

"It's for you Elizavetta It's not quite done… But yours all the same." He reached out and rested the pale tips of his fingers on the photo of their wedding day. He sank to his knees and wept uncontrollably.

Life was a petty thing, Hungary thought as she walked over to the man who wouldn't see her and rested a hand on his shaking back that he wouldn't feel. An unfair and cruel thing that seeks to destroy happiness.

"I love you Roderich…" She said, knowing he would not hear her.

It had been three months since Hungary had left Austria. Only four since their wedding.

But one day when they had been walking in the streets, there had been a disturbance in the bank across the road. A man in a mask had run out and the metal gun in his hand had decided it was time for Hungary to leave her love and he world.

Hungary leant down and pressed her lips to her living lover's ear and whispered, "I love your song… my song." She smiled, and remembered just how bad her funeral had been. "… Don't let it eat you up…"

"I love you Elizavetta…" Austria whispered and Hungary smiled. He hadn't said that since the day of her death. But it was what set her free.

- - -

Austria looked up from the floor and swore that he saw a shimmer in the air. Then from inside the lid, the piano started to play the same sad song again, rising to the tenor, it did not stop, it continued, morphing into something happy. Into a song of understanding, a song of love and remembrance

Austria smiled and sat down on the chair he recently occupied. He raised the lid and saw keys being pressed down of their own accord. Only one person he knew would dare inter fear with his own song.

"I love you." He whispered and continued the music, and his ghostly counter part stopped. .

- - -

Hungary smiled. It was her farewell present. The end he could never think up with out bringing forth the grief.

Now she had one last thing to do before she could leave now that she knew she could interact with certain objects.

Oh how Prussia was going to remember her after this.

- - -

_There is not much to say for this story except that t made for all lovers of this pairing. _

_Yeah, anyway, hope you enjoyed it and don't kill me. I am strongly opposed to violence unless I am the one committing it. _


End file.
